Writers, Sisters, & Friends

Writing Prompt: Day 34

Day 34 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a party where something crazy happens.

Shannon: “You are so lucky all of your neighbors are cool. I would never get away with half the stuff you do at these parties. Do you hear how loud the music is playing? I’m shouting and we’re outside,” Chrystal spoke her mind, and then went back to her drunken air drumming.

I was a little buzzed myself as I was getting into the music. “That’s because everybody is here. They love this, it gives them something to do,” I yelled. “I’m probably the coolest person they know. They wouldn’t cross me.” At that moment a guy ran between us and did a flip into the pool. Everybody exploded with excitement and it started a competition of who could do the crazier stunt.

We watched the other contests for a while until I noticed some people on the other side pointing behind us and covering their mouths.

I looked to the side to see that Chrystal already turned around. “Either I’m really wasted, or you’re house is smoking rainbows. It’s so beautiful,” she put her hand on her heart and started tearing up. “I’ve never seen something so pretty.”

I patted her shoulder, feeling compelled to comfort her. Then my own problems sunk in, “That’s not beautiful. That’s my house. They’re letting off smoke grenades or something. They’re going to start a fire. Now I’ve got to stop them,” I complained.

“No, no, no,” she panicked, getting in front of me. “Don’t stop them,” she turned her head to stare again.

I left her like that, sneaking past her, to stop the music and the fun to save my house from becoming a smoke-filled prison. Hmm, she was right though. It was a magnificent sight.

Erin: “This is a terrible idea,” I shook my head as my brother lit what must have been the 70th candle.

“No this is a great idea,” his eyes flashed with the fire. “Someone who lives to be 99 deserves 99 candles.”

“Grandma hates fire,” I reminded. She was who I got my fear from. “She is never going to make it to 100 if you scare her into a heart attack.”

“She’ll be fine,” he insisted lighting the last candle.

He lifted the cake and wobbled slightly. “Ken,” I shouted as my worst fear was on the brink of happening.

“I’m screwing with you,” he chuckled. So, as any sister would, I slapped him. Then he tripped and he screamed and I screamed and the carpet set on fire. My worst fear was no longer on the brink. It was happening.